Seven Year Ache
by HeartoftheNighte
Summary: In a bar, a woman sings a song for a Winchester. No smut, just one bad word. Some one on the outside looking in. Oneshot sorta songfic. Not related in any way to my other fics.


**A/N:** 'Kay, not sure where this came from, honestly. I was just sort of sitting on the couch and I started hearing this song in my head. Grabbed my laptop and opened up the lyrics. By the first verse I had this, knew what I wanted out of it. It pretty much came out like I felt it should, so I can't complain.

**A/N 2:** For me, this is Dean. The whole song and being in a bar thing just felt like Dean to me. Either when John died or maybe an AU version where Sam died too and he didn't bring him back to life. But it could also be used for Sam, when Dean dies after the year is up. Whatever floats your boat, I say. 

**A/N 3:** Song is "Seven Year Ache" by Rosanna Cash.

**Summary:** In a bar, a woman sings a song for a Winchester. No smut, just one bad word. Some one on the outside looking in. Oneshot sorta songfic.

**Disclaimer:** Dudes and dudettes, listen up. I own Supernatural and the lovely boys and even Kripke. He is my slave and the boys are… well… I'll let your imagination fill that in. Mwuhahahahaha!! 

* * *

It would be clichéd to say she noticed him the moment he walked in the bar, so she tells herself she didn't. No, she didn't see him until he took a seat ten feet from the stage and looked up at her with that desperate face and hollow eyes. It would be safe to say she noticed him then; everyone would understand. Its hard for a girl to ignore some one like him, so goddamn good looking it ain't fair and with that look upon his face…. She pays attention to her song, too professional to get truly distracted, but she watches him as she sings, flicking her eyes to him, notices him watching back the whole time. It shouldn't be unsettling, the whole bar is watching her, but he's so steady as he drowns himself in his beer. He sips slow and deep, never puts it on the table and that sure as hell is a sign that that look on his face is real and he wants to be gone somewhere else tonight. She wonders what he's lost, what's been broken inside.

She tells herself she doesn't notice when the beer is done and whiskey takes its place. When his throat strains against the burn of sour amber. She thinks maybe he'll produce a cigarette, might fit the whole scene of the smoky bar and a man with nothing to lose. But he's not the type, can't imagine a pale white stogie resting on those lips.

The song ends and for a while silence is heavy in the room. There's a soft gruff murmur of conversation, but this really isn't a chatting place. Its somewhere where the lonely go to forget and drown, keep themselves away from others and let misery bury them. They're not here to talk, just drink and maybe fuck in a dirty bathroom stall. The band behind her waits for her to give them a queue, the tip of a drumstick tapping lightly on a tambourine. She had another song lined up, but it seems wrong, ill-fitting for the pall hanging heavy tonight. Again her eyes land on the stranger, a difference in a sea of indifference. He's brushing off some barfly who's singled him out and she thinks she knows the perfect thing to sing.

_You act like you were just born tonight  
Face down in a memory but feeling all right  
So who does your past belong to today?  
Baby, you don't say nothing when you're feeling this way  
_

She sees a wry twist to his mouth as he listens, wonders at the reason for the twisted pain on his face. She knows he thinks its as fitting as she does, knows she's singing to him. He's not at all surprised and she wonders at the vanity of him.

_The girls in the bars thinking, "who is this guy?"  
But they don't think nothing when they're telling you lies  
You look so careless when they're shooting that bull  
Don't you know heartaches are heroes when their pockets are full  
_

Some people are nodding their heads to the beat, a few people swaying on the dance floor. Either their bad or their drunk or maybe both, but it ain't really much. Some of the guys and some of the girls notice who she's singing too and both are getting what she's saying. 

_Tell me you're trying to cure a seven-year ache  
See what else your old heart can take  
The boys say, "when is he gonna give us some room"  
The girls say, "god I hope he comes back soon"  
_

She noticed how his eyes dropped into his glass at the mention of seven year aches, wants to know what caused it. He's not the type to cry about a girl, its easy to see. He'll love and lose and hide it all, stuff it down and forget. No, something deeper here tonight and she wonders what, again. Thinks that maybe her silly female heart likes the lost puppies a little too much, thinks that's the reason she's still alone.

_Everybody's talking but you don't hear a thing  
You're still uptown on your downhill swing  
Boulevard's empty, why don't you come around?  
Baby, what is so great about sleeping downtown?  
_

She thinks maybe its okay to notice that though he's sitting in the middle of a crowded bar, he seems alone. Like he knows something that everyone else doesn't and it keeps him apart. Sitting relaxed and open, but there's a shell that wont ever be cracked. And damned if it isn't a lure to a female, to think that maybe "I'll be the one to get inside, touch that wounded heart and make it mine".

_Splitting your dice to be someone you're not  
You say you're looking for something you might've forgot  
Don't bother calling to say you're leaving alone  
'Cause there's a fool on every corner when you're trying to get home  
_  
Its gotta be okay to notice that the females in the room have gathered around the stage, nodding to the music but watching him. The pretty ones jostling to the front, gearing up their lines, flipping their hair. She thinks its pathetic, knows they'll never get in. The man is on a mission and its to drink away the pain and no half baked tart is gonna distract him from it.

_Just tell 'em you're trying to cure a seven-year ache  
See what else your old heart can take  
The boys say, "when is he gonna give us some room"  
The girls say, "god I hope he comes back soon"  
_

The grimace on his face might almost be funny when the first makes her move, selling him lines with flickering lashes and flashes of long silky skin. She can't hear the words he says, but the meaning is clear. A huff, a disappointed pout and she's slipping away and then his eyes are back on her, glass to his lips as he lets the music roll through. Somewhere between watching the barfly flounce off and being lost in his eyes, she sees the other men watching him, thoughts in sync with the song.

_Tell me you're trying to cure a seven-year ache  
See what else your old heart can take  
The boys say, "when is he gonna give us some room"  
The girls say, "god I hope he comes back soon"  
_

She asks herself if its she that is asking the question for herself or for the others in the room. Wonders why he captures her when she's seen better and had easier. She's not into challenges and hard sells. She'll nurse a broken heart until it can stand on its own, but she won't fight to get in. But he's got her eyes wrapped on him as he throws his bills on the table, drains his glass and walks out the bar. 

He doesn't come back but she remembers. Remembers the night when she sang about seven year aches to a man who knew too much about them. She tells herself its because he had that something about him and left the bar alone. She thinks its okay to lie about the fact that she doesn't regret not following him out when that song ended. But she can't hide from the seven year ache she's had since he's gone.

* * *

Okay, not sure how I feel about it. One part is happy and the other is sratching its head. I know I could have fleshed it out a bit more, but it just felt right like this. And yeah, I know the song might not fit, but the muse beat me over the head with this so its not my fault. Its not! 


End file.
